


Never in my Life

by Yoonjae91107



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Blind Peter Parker, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24510013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoonjae91107/pseuds/Yoonjae91107
Summary: Pete goes blind
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1,825 words  
> Unedited

Peter felt as though he had escaped not just hell, but the wrath of a _furious_ Gamora. He was covered head to toe in nicks, bruises, cuts, scratches, broken bones, and a concussion. Not even his hair had been spared, a large section of it about an inch shorter than the rest because a stray throwing knife had cut it. 

The villain that had been chasing him had been intercepted by Ironman, and Stark’s order for Peter to retreat the scene was heard a few seconds later. Parker sighed in relief and began to swing home, webs flowing and breaking with ease. His entire body was sore, and he was reminded of such each time he moved, breathed, or blinked. A headache raged, his limbs were beginning to go numb, and tears pooled in his eyes. He had never been so relieved to be treated like a child. The feeling, or emotion, thought, whichever, reminded Peter that he genuinely  _ was _ a child; only 15. 

His apartment was now within sight, and Karen seemed to be giving him continuous warnings about his current medical state, that he shouldn’t be swinging on his webs, that he should be on the ground.

“Karrren? Turrn off pl’s, I’ll be finee…” Peter slurred, shooting his next web clumsily. “I c’n see my house from heree…” His voice had shot up in pitch suddenly, which prompted his next words. “Karrenn? Whatss th’ re’soning o’ th’ voice? Hmm? Why so seri’s?”

“Peter, I reccomend that you lower yourself onto the ground,” Karen said. “Your state seems to be getting worse.”

“Nah, see? There’s th’ window to m’ay lin’ing room! It’s just… right ther’!” A childish giggle left his lips.

“Peter, please,” Karen continued.

“I shouldn’t let aunn’ May know tha’ I’m S’idermann riggh’? Gotta get thee suiiitt off!” Peter haphazardly took his mask off and webbed it to his chest. “Aannd therree’s th’ winndoww!” the teenager slurred, shooting one final web.

Peter swung dangerously in through his living room window, which was, unfortunately, not open. The glass shattered. If he had been wearing his entire suit, Peter wouldn’t have gotten very many cuts from the glass. But he’d had his mask off, and glass nicked and cut up his face, and he got quite a few shards in his eyes; In the pupils. With a strangled cry of pain, Peter hit the floor. The teen lie unconscious on the floor, slowly bleeding out, with many of his joints bending or twisted in awkward angles. Behind him, the large hole in the shattered window allowed the faint light from streetlights to trickle into the room. Parker had blood seeping from multiple wounds, tears coating his cheeks, and glass cutting into his face- and his eyes. Peter lay motionless on his aunt’s living room floor, not to be found until hours later.

-

Parker was floating in a spinning vat of darkness, colors, and noises all distorted and swirling around in his head. It was as if he was seeing a projection of his thoughts. Was he dreaming?

“ _ Peter _ !” 

The startled shriek rang in the teen’s ears. The cry was distorted and slow, but the brunette thought he recognized the voice.

“Aunt Mayyy?” Peter slurred faintly. “Pl’s don’ worrry, I’m finneee…” 

The darkness began to swirl faster and faster, and the teen thought he caught a blurred glimpse of his aunt’s terrified face before the darkness in his mind swallowed him whole.

-

“Hey Pete, get better soon.”

Aunt May. Peter would try his very best to get better.

-

“Thought you’d want to know that Flash broke his finger.”

Liz had dropped by.

“I’m moving to Oregon as well, and… I know that you liked me.”

Did she really? Was Peter just that bad at keeping a secret?

“You were terrible at keeping that a secret.”

Huh.

-

“You missed a test, that’ll suck to have to make up.”

MJ, always so ‘supportive’.

-

“Peter, All of your bones and muscles, tendons, whatever, all of that stuff’s better, all you need to do Is wake up.”

Ned.

-

“Pete, I know you may not be able to hear me, but I’m going to talk to you anyway, because, y’know, there are a lot of times… when someone’s in a coma and can remember everything they heard.”

Ned’s voice pulled on the fragile strings of Peter’s heart, waves of grief crashing over him.

“I actually read an article on some uncreditable website about it. Apparently the brain is still-”

The words suddenly faded away. Peter wanted to cry out, to call for help, for something to bring the voices of his friend back. Be he couldn’t; the darkness was suffocating him.

-

“I still don’t understand.”

It was Aunt May, and a doctor, probably.

“If he wakes up, he will never see again.”

“ _ If _ he wakes up?!”

-

“Look, kid, I-I feel bad… about overworking you, sending you on that mission even though I knew you were tired. You  _ insisted _ that you would be okay, and now look at you. Stuck in a damn hospital… I knew I shouldn’t have listened, I  _ knew _ !”

Peter was screaming silently to Tony, ‘it’s not your fault, don’t blame yourself!’

“I guess that’s a big flaw, i-in both of us, really, You always overwork yourself, doing your very best and more, always wanting to prove yourself to be just as good as the Avengers, always asking for missions, always so selfless… I listen to you when you tell me that you’re alright, and I give you the missions, although I can see you’re hurt, I can see that you’re tired… I give the missions to you anyway…”

‘Not your fault!’ Parker thought hopelessly.

“All of… what I just said… there’s a possibility… that I should’ve said it in past tense. Please wake up kid…”

-

“Pete, please don’t die on us, please…”

Ned was begging.

Peter was screaming. 

-

“Hey Pete, I haven’t talked to you in a while…”

Ned’s voice washed over Peter. If his voice were water, Parker was lying down on the shore, sleeping, and high tide was coming in to drown him.

“You’ve been out a long time, three months and two weeks… Doctors say that you exhausted or overexerted your body or something… You exercised to much, ate too little, didn’t sleep enough, were too stressed out, and sustained too many injuries and then left them untreated. All of those things combined shut you down…” Ned paused to take a shaky breath. “They’re saying… If you don’t wake up soon, they’ll have to take you off life support…” Ned sniffled, trying to hold his tears back. 

-

“Kid, If you die on me, I will… have feelings, and I will hate it. So don’t die.”

‘Thanks for the speech Mr.Stark, It was incredible…’ Peter thought quietly.

-

“...I’m gonna miss you, Pete…”

There had been many people telling him that lately.

-

“If they try to take you off life support, I’ll kidnap you.”

-

Peter groaned suddenly. “Dang,” he whispered quietly to himself.

“Hey, kid, welcome back,” Tony’s voice greeted.

“Mis’ser Stark?” the teen mumbled. “I don’t… unnerstand…”

“I kidnapped you,” Stark supplied bluntly, a smirk gracing his features.

“Huh.” Peter wiggled around a bit, feeling the softness beneath him. “What am I on?”

“Oh, a few different painkillers and a chemical of my own invention to keep you calm,” Tony replied.

“Mr.Stark, I can’t see anything,” Parker mumbled, bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes. “Everything is dark…”

“What do you mean?”

“ I can’t fudgin’ see, that’s what I mean,” The teen muttered in a fragile tone.

“You can’t… Wait, hold on. Keep still,” Tony muttered. 

He reached out and gently touched Peter’s cheek and eyelid, manually widening his eye. Tony inspected Peter’s eyes closely, grimacing at the scars within. The teen brought his hand up clumsily to hold onto Tony’s wrist, fingers wrapping around it and holding on tightly, like a child clinging to their mother’s hand in order to not lose her.

“Jarvis, call Pepper,” Tony mumbled.

“Calling- Pepper Potts.”

“Hey Tony, has Peter woken up?” Pepper asked immediately.

“Yes, he has, but-”

Pepper cut him off with a round of excited cheering. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“He can’t see,” the mechanic supplied bluntly. “There are huge cuts in his eyes, and he’s clinging to my wrist like a socially frightened toddler.”

“WHAT.”

“I can’t see, Ms.Potts,” Peter explained sorrowfully.

“I’ll be right there, which room are you in?”

“Peter’s room,” Tony replied. “The one I set up for him.”

“I’ll be there right away!”

[][][]

It had been a month. There had been no improvement in Pete’s vision. The rest of the Avengers had all offered their assistance at some point in time, but the teen continuously delined their offers, stubbornly smashing into walls and table edges. His spidey sense helped him avoid the more painful dangers -burning his hand on something hot, walking in front of a bus- but it seemed to not care for walls and tables.

A displeased huff escaped the teen as he attempted to read the sheet of braille before him. “‘M’… ‘a’… ‘n’… ‘y’? Is it a ‘y’? Probably. Many?” He gently felt the four letters with his finger tips, brow furrowing involuntarily.

“Yeah, that’s a ‘y’. You’re getting better at this, Pete, nice job!” Clint complimented, patting him on the back.

“No, I’m not,” the younger muttered. “It took me four minutes to read two short sentences. I suck at this.”

Clint sighed, a dull twanging noise coming from his general direction. “I don’t know how to help you with this, Pete. Should I get Bruce?”

“No, I… I’m just gonna take a break.” He pushed his chair back and stood up, trailing his fingers off the edge of the desk and onto the wall. Stumbling slightly, he made his way through the room towards the door. “Try to find the living room.” The words were more to himself than to Hawkeye.

Peter felt his way down the hallway, fingers trailing along the wall. He bumped into the small glass table that was standing up against the wall, as usual, and made a face to himself. “Stupid.” 

He eventually made his way past Tony’s lab, Natasha’s private training center, and Vision’s thinking room. “Jarvis, Is this the living room?” Pete asked hopefully.

“It is not, You are currently in the rec room,” Jarvis informed him dutifully.

“That’s close, right?” the teen asked in a crestfallen tone. He had been so sure he was right.

“To get to the living room, you need to move two rooms to the right.”

Peter sighed and shuffled from the rec room toward the living room. “Dumb,” he pouted. He heard someone’s footsteps behind him, but ignored them. Turning into what he thought was the living room, His spidey sense buzzed. His foot slipped on the lack of floor and he fell.

The last thing he heard was -“Peter! Stop!”- and a series of frightening thuds.

[][][]


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Approx 1.1k words
> 
> Uh, there was a request but that'll come about in the next chapter... so, uhm.. sorry that it's taking so long, I just got caught up in school and other stuff and 'm sorry but here's something for the time being, so pls don't be mad 👉👈

[][][] 

Tony’s gut recoiled as he heard Peter’s yelp. He set his tools down as his heart jumped at the sound of his kid falling down the stairs. He bolted from his lab, nearly shattering the glass door as he slammed it open. 

Pete was at the bottom of the staircase, curled up on himself. Breathing irregularly, he muttered a few nonsense words and closed his eyes. 

“Peter! Hey, Pete!” Tony kneeled beside his kid and looked him over quickly. “Damn it, kid… I told you to use the cane, but you… ugh. Never listening…” Tony groaned.

“What was that?” Banner emerged from his lab down the hall.

“Pete fell down the stairs,” Tony grumbled. He gingerly lifted Peter’s head, feeling for any cuts or bumps.

A low whine. Peter was waking up. His left hand thrashed weakly as he tried to find something to hold onto. Tony found Peter’s small hand in his own larger, calloused one.

“Hey Underoos, are you alright?”

“Dad…” Peter groaned. “My shoulder. Hurts. Hurts a lot, please, ow…”

“It’s ok, kiddo. We’ve got a doctor right here.”

Banner took a quick look at Peter’s shoulder and quickly determined that it had been dislocated. “I can set it.” 

Less than a minute later the shoulder was back in place and Peter’s head was being looked at. He wasn’t really paying attention to Dr.Banner.

“Peter?”

“What?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“No.”

“Well, what I said was-”

“I want to go to bed.”

“No, you need to-”

“I wanna go to bed now. Tony, wanna go bed. Make him leave. I don’t want him here.” Peter curled into Tony’s side, covering his ears. He didn’t have to listen if he couldn’t hear.

“Must just be tired.” Tony shrugged, lifting the boy to his feet. “We can go to the infirmary.”

[][][]

Waking up was different these days. Whenever Peter would dream, he could see, but not hear. Wherever he was awake, he could hear, but not see. He tried to cry out as images of Aunt May’s beautiful smile faded away, but of course… he remained still, and silent. Like a ghost, frozen in the air as time went on around him. As Aunt May faded into nothing, murmurs met Peter ears, asking politely for permission to enter. 

“-thinks that he’ll be fine, it was just a minor concussion.”

Peter’s ears were filled with Pepper’s tense voice, the melodies dancing nervously.

Waking up was different these days. It was like he  _ stopped _ seeing, slowly… and then sounds came back. But the only real tell that Peter was awake was whether or not he could feel things. He grasped weakly at the nearest object, finding something cool and hard, perfectly smooth. Slightly curved. A cup?

Peter was thirsty. He hoped it was a cup. Shifting his weight, he accidentally backhanded the object. It fell to the floor with a frightening crash.

“Pete’s up,” MJ said with a humorously dry tone.

“What happened?” He groaned. “My head hurts.”

Hands were on him suddenly, startling him. But this was a common occurrence. 

“Petey, kiddo, it’s okay, just Doctor Banner.” Tony’s hand found his, delicately. 

Banner’s hands were warm and a bit rough- like he’d worked in labor for a good decade or two. It was obviously from all of his inventing, but Peter liked to pretend that he was holding Uncle Ben’s hand sometimes. Ben had worked construction- bricklaying.

“Peter? Are you with me?” Tony sounded worried.

“What? Yeah.” The boy tried to sit up again. Tony pressed him down. “Why? Did I fall asleep or something?”

“You just like… spaced.”

“I’m fine. I’m blind, not dissociative.” He was irritated now. Pushing Tony’s hand away, Peter pushed his way to a sit, fighting against the gentle hands which pressed him down.

“Let me sit,” he grumbled. 

Guilt bit him as he heard Tony’s sigh.

He said nothing. But, curiosity prickled uncomfortably, quickly interrupting his stewing. He cringed at himself for asking, but, “Who’s here? Pepper? MJ?” He wished that he could look over at them, but he had to remain motionless. Trying to remember how to look down, he fiddled with his fingers.

“MJ and I are both here. Natasha is coming soon, you might hear her come in,” Pepper said softly.

“Hm.” 

An awkward quiet choked the residents of the room. The only way to keep Peter included at all was to keep talking or to hold his hand. But he didn’t seem to be in a hand-holding sort of mood.

The brunette boy was toying with the blankets of the hospital bed he was in, pressing his lips together into a small line. “I want to get up,” He requested softly.

Tony looked tiredly at Doctor Bruce Banner, who nodded an ok. “Ok, Pete. Will you accept my help?”

The boy held out his hand for Tony to support. Pushing his blankets back, Peter swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Your legs may be a little weak, Peter. Just… be cautious,” Banner murmured.

With a groan and a quick act of frustrated defiance, he dropped from the bed to the floor and did his best to stalk out of the room. 

He bumped into MJ. She spun him in an entirely different direction, saying, “This way, slugger.”

And he walked slowly from the room, trying not to cry.

[][][]

Later, when he was alone, Peter was talking with Jarvis.

“How much would a bus ticket to the Smithsonian cost?”

“Approximately 15 dollars,” Jarvis stated.

“Get me a ticket, would you? Pay for it with my account, please. Don’t use Mr.Stark’s, I don’t want him coddling me in public.” 

“What do you mean, Peter?”

“If he sees the money withdrawn from his account and you tell him that I’m actually leaving the building… he’ll be there, coddling me. I just want to be alone. I don’t care if I bump into things, I can’t stand being treated like a broken baby doll.”

“Would you like to keep your trip to the Smithsonian a secret from Mr.Stark?”

“Yes, please.”

“Ok. I will help you. I have ordered the bus ticket, an admission ticket, and used the money from your account. How do you plan to get around without injuring yourself? I suggest using your cane.”

“Uh… I just… I’m just going to walk. Without the cane.”

“You are aware of the implications and assumptions one with a basic understanding of human psychology could assume and make based on your choices right now? You could be showing symptoms of-”

“I know. Defiance, mostly. Just leave it, I don’t feel like talking about it.”

“Ok. Your bus ticket is for the 35 line at 2:35 pm. Your admission ticket is good for two days.”

“Thank you, Jarvis. Nighttime protocol please.”

Lights, already dim, turned off. Soft ocean sounds began to play softly. Peter hadn’t listened to the ocean sounds before, when he could see. But when waking from a nightmare, one would turn on the lights. Peter, however, couldn’t see. There were no lights for him…

White noise it was. 

Much better than the blackness of Peter’s vision.

[][][]


End file.
